2007-08-15 - 9:43 p.m.
So here is the post in which I rant rant rant! Bare with me....I just need to get this out.

I've known Alan for about 20 years as an acquaintance, but we've been together now as a couple for about 7 years. He has two kids (age 12 and 14) and an ex-wife that I have known as long as I've known him. They were divorced long before I came into the picture romantically.

She has no reason to have issues with me, but for some reason she does. Every time there is a change in schedule regarding who's taking care of the kids and when....she has a major freakout. We always try to give her advance notice of what we are doing, BUT she never gives us a clue as to her schedule.

Today, when Alan went to pick up his son, he left her a note saying that we couldn't have the kids next weekend because my parents were going to be in town (a full week of notice). So then she calls and leaves a message saying that she'll be out of town that weekend, and that my PARENTS CAN GO TO HELL!!!

WTF?!!

And, of course, I'm not allowed to call her. Because the last time I called, asking if I could take her kids on a road trip with us....it was just too much for her. She asked that I never call her again. Oy!

WTF?!!

And really, this isn't even the half of it. I'm just giving you a little taste. And it's not a good taste. I'd really like to call and get all up in her face and say eff you, but that is not to be. Let sleeping dogs lie, and all that. Oy.

2007-08-08 - 9:26 p.m.
Yes, I know I should be getting on to posting about the Big Cow sculpture and our road trip, but sometimes life just gets in the way. Like today. It was "I'm Waiting For The Cable Guy" day.

This is how it goes: They say they are going to be there between noon and 4:00....but does that ever happen?? No! They usually show up at 4:30 after you've been waiting all day. So I decided to induce the labor by sleeping in until noon, then taking a bath at 2:00. Because you just know they'll show up the moment you're either not there or you're taking a bath. Sure enough, the guy shows up just as I'm putting my clothes back on!

But then the guy bails out on doing the job. Here are his excuses: Oh, we aren't allowed to climb into attics. Oh, I'm wayyy to BIG to fit in the crawl space under the house. Oh, if we run the cable through the garage and into the house (the easy way), you'll have to empty your entire house.....because we don't want to be "RELIABLE" if anything breaks!! Oh, and I think we need a bucket truck.

Huh.

Ok....I'm being a little facetious about emptying the entire house....but he actually did say that he didn't want to be *RELIABLE*. Oy. So we're now rescheduled for the second time, in hopes of switching from Dish to Comcast. And in hopes of getting a skinny tech that is willing to crawl under the house, and who also has a Bucket Truck. (Something about that just sounds...??) The first reschedule was due to Comcast's phone and internet service being down. These are not good signs, I think.

I guess I better start posting a bunch of stuff while I still have internet service. I have a feeling that things could get wonky any day now! Stay tuned......

2007-07-27 - 11:01 p.m.
I had to go in for a follow up mammogram today because the one I had about a month ago showed something "suspicious." Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing, and I'm fine. But, oy! Talk about anxiety inducing! I can't imagine what it must be like for those who's results turn out to actually be cancer.

It's bad enough just going in for a routine mammogram, because there is always the fear that they'll find something. But then, when I got the call that I needed to come back because they found something, and they need to recheck.....well, my mind started to whirl. Then as I'm sitting there, waiting for them to tell me "it's fine and you can go", but instead, they come back and tell me they need to do an ultrasound.....well, of course, your mind goes into overdrive whirl. WTF???

In the ultrasound room, the lights are dim, it's almost dark. As the woman was trying to put the lubricant on my breast, she shook the bottle and squirted it on me. It splattered and made that Phttttth! sound of a lube bottle that is running on empty. She did this three times and some of the lube splatted on my face. It actually would have been really funny, like when you're trying to get ketchup out of a bottle and it goes everywhere, and you crack up. But this was all serious.

After she was done doing the ultrasound, she said she needed to go find the doctor. Oy! More waiting....only now I'm lying in a dark room with goo all over me. The minutes tick, my mind tries to stay calm. Finally she comes back, tells me I can wipe off and go. Everything is fine.

I am exhausted. Relieved, but entirely exhausted.

Alan doesn't quite understand why I was so stressed (even though his own mother had a double mastectomy just a couple years ago.) He didn't see why I was so worried. But then I said, "But it was my favorite breast!" For some reason, that got his attention. "Do all women have a favorite breast?" he asked. Heck if I know! So he said that I had to blog this. He needs to know if other women have a favorite breast.

So, here I am, freaking out that I might have breast cancer, and all he wants to know is whether or not other women have a favorite breast!

2007-07-24 - 10:15 p.m.
So probably by now, all my two regular readers know that I travel EVERYWHERE with my cat. I have a nifty little cat bag that looks somewhat like a messenger bag/purse, and I've been able to sneak her into hotels and restaurants every where from Seattle to Vegas to the Grand Canyon. Out of probably about a thousand stops or more, we've only been caught once. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, we sat down to have lunch at a little restaurant somewhere in the middle of nowhere. One of those little cafe's with bad art for sale on the walls that's trying too hard (but not hard enough) to be a Denny's without being a Denny's.

When we go to these places with the cat, we sort of have a dance move down. Alan walks in front or beside me and talks to the hostess to keep her entertained and distracted from the fact that we have a meowing cat in my purse. Then I sit down and swiftly position my purse/cat under the table between my feet. It always works. Or so I thought.

We were casually dining away, discussing the bad and not so bad art, when I noticed a cat walking across the room. I started to tell Alan that I thought the place was kinda cool because they had a cat in there....I think I said something like, "Oh cool....they have a caaaaaa....." and then I realized that it was OUR cat!!!!!!

OMG!!!!!

So I jumped up and started trying to grab the cat. Alan didn't know what the heck I was doing....he just saw me panicking and running between the tables like a crazy person. Finally he sees that I'm running after our cat, and the two of us act like quarterbacks trying to quickly box her in so I can tackle/grab her. Amazingly, the only other people at the place, a couple of bikers grabbing a beer, never even looked up! Even our ditzy waitress missed out on the action. The elderly owner lady did catch it though and reprimanded us, but allowed us to stay as long as we could keep the cat in the bag. (I often wonder about the origins of the phrase, "Don't let the cat out of the bag!")

Anyway, we're back home in California now. I've got stories and pictures that need to be posted. So stay tuned, people. There is more to come. But for now, I'm going to go chill. Cheers!

(PS....The reason she got out is that she is one clever Pussy! She was able to paw at the zipper until it unzipped. I'm going to have to work on that!)